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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691585">The Westerosi Express</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phylwannabe/pseuds/Phylwannabe'>Phylwannabe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Regency Romance; Unplanned Pregnancy; Gentleman's Grand Tour; Coming Home; Angst, christmas is coming</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:34:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phylwannabe/pseuds/Phylwannabe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Young nobleman Jon Snow is finishing up his grand tour of Westeros with a trip North on the famed Westerosi Express. He plans to visit the Starks, his distant cousins, at  Winterfell for the first time and then travel to the Wall to review the troops at Castle Black.  His plans are derailed, however, when he and his companion, Samwell Tarly, meet two young women who will forever change their lives.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Gilly/Samwell Tarly, Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue: The Prodigal Daughter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was a Stark, raised by her lady mother to walk with head held high, to converse at ease among nobility, a princess in all but name. <br/>She had grown up surrounded by honorable, upstanding people: her brave, headstrong older brother, her indomitable yet loving mother, and, of course, her highly principled father. All assured her she was destined to be the wife of a great lord someday. <br/>Pride for her shining from his eyes, Ned Stark told her that only someone brave, gentle, and strong would be good enough for his daughter.</p><p>At eighteen she received grudging permission from her parents to travel South so that she could make her debut in King’s Landing society.   Upon her arrival in the capitol she was swept away by a glamorous whirlwind of dinners, parties, concerts, and balls. Her new friends, sophisticated young women with lofty names like Tyrell, Mooton, and Florent, teased her about her sheltered upbringing. Bit by bit they drew her out of her rigid code of prescribed behavior and in the process  transformed the girl she had been into someone else entirely. While attending a late winter soiree at the Baratheon mansion, wearing a gown cut so low her mother would have had it burned, she had met the heir.  Joffrey was a handsome, if arrogant, young man with golden hair and she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.  Weeks later, she gave her virginity to the young lord, certain he would love her forever just as ardently as she loved him. It turned out the only thing he truly cared for was the sound of his own name. That, and taking priceless things from young girls who should have known better than to offer them.  </p><p>She shouldn’t have given herself away so easily. She was meant for much, much better. She felt dirty...sullied...cheap.  She had let them all down: her mother, her father, her older brother, even her younger sister and brothers who fought like wolf pups, but who loved each other fiercely nonetheless.  </p><p>She yearned for the North but she couldn’t go home.  She also clearly couldn’t remain in Kings Landing. Once her condition became known, not only would she be ruined, but her family’s reputation would be shattered. She was desperate. A solution came in the form of her aunt’s husband, a courtier at the Targaryen court. He owned a home just outside the capitol, far enough from the city center that Sansa could begin her confinement in relative obscurity.  Once the baby arrived, he assured her that they would find it a good home and she could return to the North with her head held high. No one would be the wiser. </p><p>She moved at his insistence and quickly began to realize that she had traded one problem for an even bigger one.  For months she successfully ignored the subtle signs of attraction that her married host showed toward her.  As summer gave way to fall and she lost her graceful figure, she hoped that her increasing girth would be enough to quash his obvious interest. Then, just as frost arrived to cover the ground with sparkles that reminded her painfully of  home, she woke late one night  to find her uncle by marriage sitting on the side of her bed, his fingers wrapped in her night rail, slowly pushing it off her shoulder.  When she bolted up and drew the covers over her chest, Petyr Baelish merely smiled and slid out of the room, reminding the startled girl of nothing so much as a large venomous snake. </p><p>She began to bolt her door; he had the locks removed.  Before she went to bed the next evening, she pushed a heavy desk as far as she could to block the entrance to her room. The next day as she was writing a letter to her mother, a missive full of lies and half-truths about the wonderful season she was having in Kings Landing, servants entered her room and removed every piece of  furniture that she could possibly use as a barrier.  She was terrified.  Somehow she knew that her delicate condition would not stop her wife’s husband from having his way with her.  She swore to herself that she would die first.  She should have known that his intentions were not honorable. Before persuading her to come to his home, he had failed to reveal  that her aunt was not in residence. Only after she was trapped did she learn that Lysa and her young cousin, Robin Arryn, were at their country estate.  She was alone in a house full of strange retainers who were loyal only to Petyr Baelish and she had no clear path out.</p><p>She managed to steal a sharp knife from the kitchen by hiding it in the folds of her dress. She packed a small valise and readied a cloak and traveling clothes.  She counted her money and kissed her money pouch when she realized that if she was very careful, she had just enough to make it home. She would wait until the entire household was asleep to effect her escape. She swore on the old gods and the new that if Baelish made a move toward her that evening, she would insure it was his last.  </p><p>She laid down, fully dressed, too nervous to sleep.  She pulled the covers up to her neck and closed her eyes. Determined to stay awake, she passed the time thinking about her journey from home.  She ruefully smiled to herself as she realized that her biggest desire in coming to Kings Landing had not been fulfilled. She had childishly hoped that she would have the opportunity to see the royal family, even if only from a distance. She had always been fascinated by the story of handsome Prince Rhaegar and his whirlwind romance with the lovely Lyanna Stark.  Perhaps she was captivated by that tale because Lyanna was her own father’s distant cousin.  Regardless she had always sighed and begged her governess to relate over and over again the story of how Rhaegar had loved Lyanna so much he had married her in secret, risking the King’s ire and his own claim as heir to the throne. </p><p>The girl sighed dreamily as she remembered what she had been told about the royal elopement.  Aerys had threatened to exile his son and send Lyanna north, but once the Princess gave birth and the King  had taken one look at his grandson,  all was forgiven. Jaehaerys Targaryen was the apple of his grandfather’s eye.  The girl had listened with avid interest to the gossip about the crown prince. He was said to be even more handsome than his father.  "Beautiful", Elinor Florent had sighed.  "Oh, so pretty!" Jocasta Mooten had proclaimed.  "A man among men", Margaery Tyrell had stated with ultimate conviction and all the other girls had nodded their assent. </p><p>She thought about how little Prince Jaehaerys had healed the rift between his father and grandfather. She caressed her growing mound and wondered if her mother and father could find it in their hearts to love her baby.  Petyr had convinced her that Catelyn Stark would not tolerate such a breach of respectable conduct and that her father was too honorable to keep her disgrace a secret. He had whispered that she had no choice but to give her child up for adoption.  But the girl now understood that Baelish was a dishonorable man. She couldn’t trust him or his motivations in helping her. </p><p>Hours later, just as she was debating if it was time to move from her room, the door eased open. Her lids barely open, she watched the shadow moving  toward her bed.  She felt the bed dip, his weight pressed into her body.  Petyr made a disgruntled sound, no doubt put off by the heavy blanket she had wrapped herself in.  He began to ease it off and she realized she could not let him see the knife. She brought her free hand out of the covers and raised it over her head, stretching as if awakening from sleep. </p><p>His lips moved into yet another unctuous smile.  Drawing her hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss into her palm.  She wanted to slap him but covered her annoyance with a yawn.  He placed both hands around her shoulders and began to lift her from the bed. She was no longer the innocent she had been and she clearly understood her uncle’s disgusting intentions.  It was now or never.  Swift as thought she brought the knife up and stabbed into his chest, once, twice, then a third time.  He looked at her with surprise and she covered his mouth with her hand so that he could not yell out.    </p><p>He fell backward. She crept from the bed and felt for his pulse. Finding none, she looked down to see that she was still holding the bloody knife in her trembling hand. She dropped the knife and forced her legs to move. Grabbing her cloak and valise from her wardrobe, she eased the door open, glancing both ways along the empty corridor before making her escape.</p><p>The clock over the Kings Landing terminal showed it was almost six o’ clock in the morning. The Westerosi Express was due to arrive in the railway station at any moment. She had paid for her ticket and counted the few dragons she had left with some dismay.  It was a long trip and the best she could afford with her meager savings was a seat in third class. If she was very careful, she could afford some tea and biscuits to tide her over on the two day journey.  Since it was only a few days before the Yule celebration, the train would likely be crowded.  She hoped she could secure a bench far enough away from the stoke room that she wouldn’t have to breathe the coal dust caused by the fires which fueled the train.  She heard a distant whistle and recognized that it was a warning to all that the great engine was approaching the station.  As she stood to stretch her weary limbs, she pulled the hood of her simple cloak up around her face. She could not afford to be recognized at this point. </p><p>She pressed her fist into her lower back, seeking to massage away the ache from sitting in one place too long. She had weighed her options, she had measured her choices, and she had made her decision. Like the prodigal in the holy texts, she would return to Winterfell, mistakes acknowledged, and submit herself to her parents’ will. She knew that the glorious future her family had  planned for her was forever lost. Instead, she would become  a governess, a lady in waiting to her sister or perhaps, handmaid to a distant cousin.  She would make only one demand of her family: she would ask her parents to love her child like they had always loved her, to see that its future was brighter than her own. After all, Starks were wolves and the pack always looked after its young.</p><p>Unshed tears glinted in her blue eyes as she watched the train that would take her North pull into the station, belching soot and smoke into the atmosphere. Nodding with determination, she bent to grasp her valise, tightened her cloak around her, and moved toward the turnstile.  Sansa Stark was finally going home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Unexpected Encounters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly arrive at Kings Landing.  Sam meets Gilly. Jon "runs into" Sansa.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon Snow watched the countryside stream by as he looked out the window of the first class car he occupied on the <em>Westerosi Express</em>.  His best friend, Sam Tarly was seated on the cushioned bench opposite him. Sam continued his steady stream of conversation which, much like the train on which they were traveling, had only accelerated since they boarded at the station in Storm’s End, the inception point for the King’s Rail.  At this moment, Sam was holding forth on some bit of arcane information he had gleaned from one of the heavy tomes he had borrowed from the Citadel.  Jon had long ago learned to listen with one ear as his companion held forth on myriad subjects, all imparted with Tarly’s earnest intent of transferring at least a little of his impressive wealth of knowledge to his more intellectually mundane friend. </p><p>As Sam droned on, Jon nodded absently and returned to idly tracing patterns in the condensation that had formed on the window.  His other hand automatically adjusted the snowy white cravat which relieved the otherwise somber ebony of his outfit.  Jon straightened up with interest as he noticed that the train had just cleared the Kingswood and was now heading due east toward the capitol city.  They were approaching Kings Landing and Jon intended to disembark just long enough to take a brisk walk up and down the platform and to possibly pick up a current edition of the <em>Seven Kingdoms Gazette</em>.  The next stops would be a very short one at the dilapidated Harrenhal station and then a much longer one at the Crossroads Inn station. </p><p>As the first whistle sounded out a warning that the famed train was entering the capitol’s boundaries, Jon grinned at Sam.  “So how do you like our accommodations so far?”  </p><p>Sam’s round face smiled genially back at him  as he waved his arm around the spacious chamber.  “Oh, they are spectacular!  I believe riding the Express the length of the Kings’ Line from the Stormlands to the Wall will definitely be my favorite part of this entire Grand Tour, Your Hig....”  <br/>Jon interrupted his companion with a scowl, “Sam, I have told you time and time again to dispense with the titles while we are traveling together.  Here we are, nearly at the end of our trip, and yet you persist.”  </p><p>Sam’s countenance fell a bit, but he pressed on with only the trace of a waver in his voice.  “I know, Jon, but I still don’t understand why you persist in traveling...,” Sam assumed a mock  continental accent and wagged his eyebrows at his friend, <em>“incognito”</em>. </p><p>Jon leaned toward Sam, elbows on knees, his long face serious.  “Because this is my last opportunity to enjoy myself as a normal, average person.”   </p><p>“<em>Jon</em>”, Sam chided, “You have <em>never</em> been a normal, average person.  Honestly, you act as if your life will end the minute you return to Kings Landing. Think of <em>all</em> the experiences to which you can look forward!”   </p><p>Jon huffed and ran one hand roughly through his tousled curls.  “Yes, a loss of personal freedom.  <em>If</em> you can consider that something for me to look forward to.”  Jon rubbed his hand over his short beard in frustration. “Remember, Sam, <em>exactly</em> why Father directed me to travel North at the conclusion of our Grand Tour rather than at the beginning.”</p><p><br/>“To <em>which</em> I can look forward.”  </p><p>“What?”  </p><p>“You don’t end sentences with a preposition, Jon,” Sam admonished with a fond tone.  “You know that.”    </p><p>Jon leaned back against the plush seat and closed his eyes, rubbing the space between his furrowed brows with two fingers.  A headache was forming. He loved Sam, he honestly did, but sometimes he wished he had just left Tarly to his own paltry devices when he had first met him in the training yard at the Red Keep.  Instead Jon had rescued him from the taunts of the other boys, gaining a lifelong friend who was never afraid to speak truth, <em>or proper grammar</em>, to power. </p><p>Eyes still closed, he muttered, “Perhaps we should review our covers before we disembark at Kings Landing.”  </p><p>Sam perked up a bit.  “Yes! Well....you are the oldest son of a wealthy textile merchant.  You are finishing your grand tour with a rail trip along the entire length of the King’s Line.  Since nothing but the best will do for the son of Sir Wilford Snow, you are booked in the premier first class cabin for the entire trip.  We will be guests of Lord and Lady Stark of Winterfell for the holidays. When we get to Castle Black, we will stay over for a week or so and then book passage back to Kings Landing with the same accommodations for the return trip.  Young <em>Lord Jon Snow</em> intends to do some hunting beyond the Wall while that far North.”  Sam paused.  His round face beaming with excitement he then continued, “<em>And I</em>, Samwell Tarly, am your best friend from school and your companion for all these exciting adventures. When we return to Kings Landing,  I will travel on to Oldtown to complete my training to become a maester.”  </p><p>Despite his present irritation with his friend, Jon couldn’t help but look at him fondly.  “Sam, you do know you will also be losing a great deal of  freedom when you enter the Citadel. For instance, I know how interested you are in the opposite sex. But when you become a Maester, you will have to forswear all intimate relations with women forever. Isn’t that a loss you will resent?” </p><p>Sam giggled, a sure sign the conversation had veered in a direction that was making him nervous. <br/>“Come now, Jon, you know that I have never had much luck with the ladies anyway.”  He shrugged his shoulders in an artlessly appealing way. “How could I when <em>you</em> were always there, drawing the women to you like bees to honey?  No, as much as I like <em>everything</em> about girls, they don’t like much about me.”</p><p>Jon responded, his tone serious.  “Maybe you just haven’t found the right girl yet, my friend.”   Sam sighed.  <em>What a pair they made!</em>  Sam could literally talk to a tree stump, but girls weren’t vegetation and what most women seem to want was an aesthetically pleasing gentleman with whom they could converse.  Sam knew he wasn’t ugly, but he also wasn’t amazingly handsome like his best friend. On the other hand, it didn’t help to be so good-looking as Jon if you couldn’t string together two sentences without shoving your boot into your pouty mouth. Jon was just as socially awkward as he was beautiful and that was saying something! </p><p>Sam thought Jon might speak again, but at that moment the train braked sharply and they looked out to see that while they had been engaged in conversation, the Express had arrived at the station in Kings Landing.  </p><p>Jon stood and clapped his hands together.  “Enough talk, Sam. Let’s go get some fresh air!” He pulled the door to their compartment open and motioned for his friend to exit first.  Tarly moved into the passenger aisle, talking a mile a minute as was his wont.  “Yes, and maybe the concessionaire will be selling some of those toasted almonds.  I do so love those! Speaking of food, I read that the kitchen on this train uses two thousand pounds of flour <em>every</em> year. Can you imagine? And then there is the....”  Sam’s voice trailed away as he lumbered off down the hallway.  Jon could only shake his head in amusement as he followed behind. </p><p>********************************</p><p>Sansa watched the passengers departing the train, trying to gauge the best time to embark onto the Express.  She kept her hood pulled tight around her face. Perhaps she was being paranoid for she had seen no evidence yet that the city had arisen in alarm due to the murder of one of the King’s advisors.  Still she couldn’t afford to be recognized.  Once she was on the train and it was headed north, she would possibly be able to breathe a sigh of relief.  </p><p>Sansa saw a possible break in the steady stream of passengers and bolted toward the train, moving as fast as her rather ungainly body would allow.  Just as she arrived at the train a portly young man stepped off the Express right in front of her.  Seeming as surprised by her presence as she was by his, he tipped his hat awkwardly and then moved away, chattering away about toasted almonds as if he were with a companion. Sansa was still looking after his departing form as she absently reached for the rail with one hand while holding on to her valise with the other.  She had just stepped one foot onto the train step, her other hovering in mid-air when she was suddenly jolted by an impossibly hard obstacle that sent her flying backwards toward the platform several feet away....</p><p>***********************************</p><p>Jon had been deep in thought as he followed Sam up the length of the Express to the main exit where tickets were stamped for reentry onto the train.  He had handed his railway pass to the conductor and then nodded at him absently before grabbing the handrail and leaping off the step only to hit a solid barrier.  Jon snapped back to the present; his reflexes had been honed from years of intense sparring and fighting.  In a split second he registered impossibly large, incredibly blue eyes filled with alarm as their owner helplessly tumbled backward toward the stone platform.  Jon acted on sheer instinct.  He couldn’t keep her from falling but he could certainly cushion the blow.  Jon reached out, grabbing his victim, drawing her close, and twisting his body so that he would take the brunt of the collision. </p><p><br/>Sansa felt a jolt and heard a hoarse grunt as she and her assailant hit the platform.  She was breathless; her only thought was to protect her babe as she tried to find some purchase against the impossibly hard body of the man who held her.  As she began to gasp, sucking air into her lungs like she was drowning, she heard a commotion erupting above them.  </p><p>“Lord Snow! Oh gods, Lord Snow, are you hurt?”   Dazedly, Sansa pushed away from the strong prison of the unknown man’s arms.  <em>Lord Snow?</em>   Sansa gazed down only to be brought up short by the face looking up at her.  <em>Gods, he was beautiful!</em>  His dark eyes, brown with streaks of gold streaking through them, reminded her of nothing so much as melted caramel swirled through chocolate.  Full lips were parted in what she only belatedly realized was an effort to draw a clean breath.  His longish hair surrounded  his face in a nimbus of ebony curls.  Sansa suddenly went boneless; something about this man’s embrace made her feel safe in a way she had not felt since leaving Winterfell. </p><p>Sansa was snatched from her reverie as she was grabbed, none too gently by the arms and pulled  away from her very appealing human cushion.  “How dare you accost a Lord like this? What were you thinking?”  Sansa found herself confronted by a very angry train conductor who was waving his ticket puncher dangerously close to her face.  “Move aside. I need to help Lord Snow,...” The irate official’s rant halted as the object of his concern pushed himself off the platform and stood, using the hand rail to pull himself up to a standing position.  </p><p>A wonderfully deep voice rumbled forth from her savior.  “I am fine, Sir. Just fine.  It was all my fault really. I failed to pay attention to my steps, bowled into this young lady, and quite knocked her off her feet.”  </p><p>The handsome man had pulled himself up onto the train and now stood in the aisle, brushing off his obviously expensive morning coat and trying, but failing, to correct the angle of his cravat.  He ran his fingers through his tousled hair as if by habit and after pulling at his coat one last time, faced her.  “Are you all right, Miss...” he trailed off suddenly as Sansa’s cloak opened.  “I mean, ma’am,...madam.”  A blush rose above his trim beard and he bowed awkwardly.  “Jon Snow at your service.  Are you hurt?  Is the, I mean, is it, what I meant to say is...” </p><p>Taking pity on him, Sansa replied in a low tone.  “I am fine.  And yes, I think the babe is fine.  You acted with great speed to save me, I think, Lord Snow. Thank you.”</p><p>He nodded, a serious look on his comely face.  “Thank the gods for that.” He removed her valise from her hand.  “Your ticket?”  He plucked it from her hand the second she pulled it from her cloak and shook his head, muttering.  “This won’t do, no, not at all.”   Lord Snow whirled on the conductor.  “Please escort this lady to her seat right away.  “She will need a foot warmer and a blanket, I think. And find her some tea and biscuits.  She looks famished.” </p><p>Sansa looked down at the floor in embarrassment.  “Thank you, Milord, but I cannot ask for such extravagances. It is a long trip and I must be careful with my funds.”</p><p>The gentleman airily brushed her comments away with his hand.  “Call me Jon, ma’am.  Please, if you will,  allow me to provide these minimal comforts for your journey.  I need to compensate for my clumsiness.”  As Sansa started to open her mouth to protest yet again, he moved closer to her and whispered.  “It would make me feel much better if you would do so.”   Again, Sansa was mesmerized by the warm, encouraging look in his eyes. She also noticed that he was blushing above his neatly trimmed beard.  She opened her mouth but then closed her lips, merely nodding in response.  </p><p>Jon smiled then, transforming his face from a mere masterpiece to a Botticelli.  Nodding briskly, he  turned back to the conductor, handing the man her valise.  </p><p>“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”  The flustered Conductor pressed a hand into the small of Sansa’s back.   “This way, ma’am.  Allow me to show you to your seat.”</p><p>Sansa followed the conductor down the aisle to the third class section.  She glanced back only once to find her handsome benefactor still standing in the aisle, hands in pockets, looking after her with a steady gaze.</p><p>****************************************</p><p>Meanwhile Sam had found his roasted almonds and at the same time, most improbably, had fallen in love.  He had realized Jon was not following him when he turned, three-quarters of the way down the platform length.  He shrugged. Jon could find his own way.  Cheerfully anticipating one of his favorite treats, Sam joined the back of the queue at the concession stand.  Sam was whistling softly under his breath when his attention was drawn to a young woman holding the hand of a small boy, perhaps five or six,  just ahead of him in the line.  </p><p>“Sam,” she whispered apologetically, a Northern accent evident in her voice.  “Remember, Mama must be careful with our money! I will purchase an egg sandwich for us to share but we will just have to give up on having roasted almonds this trip.” </p><p>Sam watched curiously as the little boy<em> (Sam, was it? What a coincidence!) </em> looked down in disappointment and scuffed his small feet across the platform.  His breath caught as the woman turned to the side and he got his first good look at her. She wasn’t exactly beautiful, but she was charming.  Clear eyed, fresh faced, teeth slightly protruding in a way that made Sam consider just what it might feel like to have  her graze his lower lip with those pearls.  Her mink brown hair was pulled back from her face and the lace collar of her dress peeked out of her serviceable cloak. </p><p>Sam continued to observe the pair until they arrived at the front of the line.  He then pushed past the older man just between them, apologizing profusely as he did so. He cleared his throat and pronounced, “This young gentleman will have a serving of your best roasted almonds.”  He nodded toward the woman. “The young lady as well.”  He pulled out his wallet from his vest pocket. “And I will have one as well.  So that’s three orders please. He looked over at the girl with a question in his voice and then nodded,  “Also, <em>two</em> egg sandwiches, if you please.”  Sam looked back abashedly at the gentleman he had pushed past who was now standing, arms crossed, with a scowl on his face.  “Oh, and I will pay for his order as well!” </p><p>Minutes later and several dragons lighter, Sam strolled back to the train alongside Gilly Craster and her three year old  son. He had learned that they were also traveling on the Express, although ticketed for third class, and that, like he and his best friend, their ultimate destination was also the Wall.  Sam had introduced himself, using the covers that he and Jon had arranged, but avoiding any mention of his intended career as a Maester.  Gilly was just as charming as Sam had thought she would be. When he helped little Sam maneuver successfully into his seat without spilling either sandwich or almonds, Gilly had taken his hand in her much smaller one and thanked him profusely.  “Perhaps we will see each other once we reach the Wall, Lord Tarly?”  she had asked sweetly.  Sam had blushed to the soles of his shoes and stammered. “Sam, call me Sam.  I would be glad to be of any service you might required, MiLady.”  </p><p>Gilly laughed sweetly, “Call me Gilly, Sam.  I am not a highborn lady, just a common girl.”  Sam had bowed over her hand and turned back toward the first class compartments, thinking to himself, <em>There is nothing at all common about you, Gilly Craster!</em>    </p><p>**********************************************</p><p>The Express pulled out of the Kings Landing station at dusk. The train would move through the night and would arrive at the Crossroads Inn stop shortly before daybreak.  Jon couldn’t sit down, couldn’t get his mind off of the young lady that he had, quite literally, run into. He paced back and forth as Sam enjoyed their plated dinner all while holding forth regarding the most wonderful girl he had met back at the roasted almond kiosk.  Jon had never seen Sam so besotted before and if he hadn’t been so caught up in his own thoughts, Jon might have actually been interested in hearing more about this Milly or Dilly or, whatever her name was, and finding out just exactly what had his friend so entranced. </p><p>Seven hells, he couldn’t concentrate right now if his soul depended on it!  He could have seriously injured that beautiful, auburn haired woman. In reality, she was barely more than a girl, but one who was obviously expecting a child, and soon, by all appearances.  Jon normally wouldn’t give a lady in her condition a second glance because to do so would guarantee the necessity of then accepting a challenge issued by some put-upon husband.  Jon had already experienced enough duels for honor’s sake to last him his entire lifetime!  The funny thing was, if he could just get past his own antiquated notions of propriety and expose those situations for what they were - women pressing unwanted advances upon him - he could possibly have avoided some of his most hair raising experiences.  But he had been schooled by his mentors, Sir Arthur Dayne and Sir Barristan Selmy among others, that it was a gentleman’s duty to preserve a lady’s honor at all costs!   So he kept his mouth shut, played the role of a charming, if  bashful, rogue,  and made sure his dueling blades always had a sharp edge.  From Jon’s viewpoint, the biggest advantage of this Grand Tour had been the opportunity to get away from the capitol and the vapid, unprincipled women that populated it.  In his twenty four years of life, he had yet to find a woman whose physical aspect captured both his heart and his mind. Certainly he had never met one who he could wholly admire!  Given the duty that faced him when he arrived at Winterfell, he likely would never have the opportunity to discover such a spectacular female. </p><p>Now, for the first time, he had actually briefly held such a  creature in his arms and the ever cruel fates had rendered her as unattainable as she was lovely.  The red haired beauty was obviously wedded, bedded, and great with child.    </p><p>Sighing, Jon turned back to where Sam was flourishing a bite of steak  on his fork. “Jon, do sit down.  Have some supper!”  </p><p>Jon plopped onto the bench opposite Sam, rattling a few dishes as he fell.  “Sam, I just can’t get my mind off of her.”</p><p>Sam buttered a roll and considered Jon for a moment before speaking.  “Jon, it isn’t like you to lose your head over a woman so quickly.  What is it about her that has you so interested?”    </p><p>Jon picked up a fork and absently twirled it around on the table surface.  “She is riding in third class, but I warrant it’s the first time she has ever traveled in so mean a fashion.   Her bearing is dignified though her clothes are dull and plainly made. She has the refinement of a lady and yet she is not accompanied by either a maid or a valet.  She is clearly expecting but she is traveling alone. Alone, Sam!  Where is her husband?  What kind of man allows his pregnant wife to travel by herself in the dead of winter?”  He tossed the fork down and jumped back up.  “I tell you, Sam, there is a definite air of intrigue about her and I am determined to puzzle it out!”</p><p>Sam sighed, removed his napkin from where it had been tucked in around his neck and carefully dabbed his mouth with the cloth.  “All right, Jon. How exactly do you plan on solving the <em>puzzle</em> of this mystery woman?” </p><p>Jon had resumed pacing, arms crossed, his boots clicking sharply across the tiled floor.  Suddenly he stopped, hands on hips, and regarded Sam.  “I have an idea.”   Sam gave him a dubious glance.  “Oh, I <em>know</em> that look.  Whenever you say you have an idea and you give me <em>that</em> look, I never like what comes next.”   </p><p>Jon patted Sam on the back while simultaneously removing the napkin from around his neck and brushing the crumbs from his friend’s waistcoat.   “I am not asking you to do anything dangerous, Sam.  Just go back to third class, find her, and extend an invitation for her to join us in our compartment where it is nice and warm and where we have a delicious dinner to share with her.”   </p><p>Sam spluttered. “Why, by the seven and by all that is holy, do you think she would agree to join two strange men alone in their quarters?  If she is even <em>half</em> the lady you believe her to be, she will spit in my eye at such a suggestion!”  </p><p>Jon leaned his arms on the table. “Because she won’t be <em>alone</em>, Sam.” </p><p>“She won’t?”  </p><p>Jon shook his head smugly.  “No, because at the same time you invite her to join us, you will also invite the young woman you met and her son to join us.  You will tell her that Lord Snow is concerned only for her comfort and for the comfort of Ms. Dill....”   </p><p>Sam interrupted, his brow furrowed.  “It’s Gilly, and I knew all along you weren’t listening to a word I was saying!”</p><p>Jon nodded, pushing Sam up and out the door. “Nonsense! I <em>was</em> listening.  It’s <em>Gilly</em> and little Sam, of course!” Jon grabbed Sam by the coat lapels before he got completely out of the door.  “And Sam, <em>both</em> ladies can take comfort that their virtue will remain intact because <em>they will be together</em>. It is a totally innocent offer, well intentioned and chivalrous. So get on with it! " </p><p>************************************ </p><p>As the train slowly pulled away from the station, Sansa finally exhaled. She had been unconsciously holding her breath for what seemed like hours, but was, in reality, only a few minutes. As the engine belched smoke and built up speed, leaving Kings Landing far behind, Sansa felt the tension in her body gradually subside.  While waiting for the train to begin moving, Sansa had looked out the window and noticed what appeared to be two officers, detectives from the look of their plain black suits, standing together at the ticket office.  Her heart leaped into her throat when one of the men suddenly raised his head and looked directly at her.  <em>Did they know about Baelish?  Had an alarm been sounded?  Were they looking for someone that fit her description?</em> </p><p>Sansa shook her head, mentally chiding herself for her foolish fears. She was safe.  The train was now speeding through the night, she was heading North,  and she would be home with her family in time for Christmas.  Despite her fears regarding how she would be received by her family in her condition, she still dared to believe that she would be welcomed. Once she entered the walls of Winterfell, she could truly feel that she had left her nightmares behind.   Sansa wriggled on the hard bench, trying to find a comfortable position, pulling the blanket closer around her shoulders. The foot warmer was a welcome luxury and just for a moment, she allowed herself to think about Lord Snow. He had been kind, so gallant,  and so, so handsome.....</p><p>Angry with herself, Sansa gave her wrist a sharp pinch.  <em>What was wrong with her?</em>  She had allowed her head to be turned by a fine face and refined manners once, but she couldn’t, she wouldn’t,  allow herself to be fooled again. Pulling the blanket even closer around her, she rebuked her girlish fancies for the pitfalls they so clearly were.   She was expecting and unmarried. She was ruined! No self-respecting man would ever look twice at her, would never consider her a suitable companion, much less an acceptable candidate for marriage. She had let her head be turned by a so-called gentleman who had promised love and marriage and then, after callously taking her innocence, had totally rejected her.  On top of that she had just killed a second man, a relative by marriage,  whom she had trusted to look after her when she fled Kings Landing the first time.  Instead he had proven a rank lecher who lusted after a pregnant girl young enough to be his daughter! She was done with trusting beautiful men  and she was certainly done with romance and love.  It had given her nothing but grief! </p><p>**************************************</p><p>Sam made his way back through the train.  When he arrived at the third class section, he began to scan the section for the red haired woman.  While he was still dubious concerning Jon’s plan and his motives, he couldn’t help but be excited for the possibility that if it worked, he would have an opportunity to talk more with Gilly, learn more about her situation, and determine if he could help her and her little boy in any way.  Of course, that possibility was linked to his persuasive abilities and whether he would be able to gain the trust of the woman Jon found so fascinating!   Sam smiled as he spotted Gilly, head bent toward the seat next to her in which little Sam was no doubt ensconced.   And there, just beyond Gilly, without a doubt was the woman Jon had bouldered into earlier. </p><p>Sam didn’t consider himself a snob, actually, just the opposite, he would argue. He certainly didn’t elevate people just because of their claims to rank and privilege.  Still as he looked at the lovely woman sitting all by herself, he immediately comprehended Jon’s infatuation.   The girl embodied refinement -  nobility even - sitting regal as a princess though enveloped in a wool blanket and plain brown cloak. More to the point, she was truly, breathtaking. <em>Poor Jon</em>, Sam thought.  <em>His choice of a woman to become infatuated with is  truly deplorable. Not to mention, that if he does his duty, he will have no opportunity to seek out the choices of his heart.....</em>  </p><p>Shaking himself to clear his thoughts, Sam took a deep breath and moved past Gilly, nodding politely at her while giving a fingers wiggling wave to sleepy little Sam. He stopped at the lady’s seat and cleared his throat.  She looked up, startled, her vivid blue eyes wide.  Sam bowed from the waist.  “Excuse me, Milady.  I am Sam Tarly.  Lord Snow’s companion. He asked me to find you and inquire as to your comfort.”</p><p>She exhaled and bestowed a smile upon him.  “Thank you, sir. Please tell Lord Snow that I am fine and,” here she pointed toward the warmer on the floor, “I thank him for his many kindnesses.”  </p><p>Sam cleared his throat again and smoothed his waistcoat with a nervous hand.  “Well, actually, Lord Snow instructed me to invite you to his compartment, I mean, <em>our</em> compartment, where he feels you will find your continued journey much more comfortable.”</p><p>She bristled just as Sam had expected.  “Please tell Lord Snow that such an invitation, extended to a lady traveling alone, is simply not done.  I should  think he would know that.”  </p><p>Sam forged on.  “Well, of course, an invitation to you alone, Milady, would be beyond the pale. But that is not Lord Snow’s intention.  He turned and called softly to Gilly, “Madame Craster, I wonder if you would like to join Miss, I mean, Lady, I mean,” here he shrugged in an appealing way, “I am so sorry, I know neither your name nor your title.”  </p><p> </p><p>The beauty’s blue eyes warmed as she glanced ahead. Gilly was looking back, body turned in her seat.  “It is Sa....uhmm, Alayne Stone, Mr. Tarly. <em>Mrs</em>. Alyane Stone. Again, thank Lord Snow for his invitation, but I still must decline.” </p><p>Sam wiped his palms, now damp, against his trouser legs.  “Well, now, of course, you would refuse. I understand. I do.”  He glanced back at Gilly and thinking of the warm feelings he got insdie whenever he looked at her smiling face, he drew forth a second reserve of determination. “But,” he leaned slightly closer to Mrs. Stone and lowered his voice, “Madame Craster won’t come either unless you agree to join her, and as you may have noticed, she has a little one that could catch his death in this cold.”  </p><p>The lovely hooded lady furrowed her elegant brows together and stretched her neck to look more carefully at Gilly.  She called out in a lilting voice, “You have a child?”</p><p>Gilly nodded. “Yes, a little boy.  He is almost five.”  </p><p>The lady bit her lip and Sam internally cheered. She was wavering.  This woman was a kind person. She would never accept such a dubious consideration for herself but a little boy’s comfort clearly moved her.</p><p>She closed her eyes momentarily, clearly struggling.  Sam waited with baited breath.  Without warning, the train slowed abruptly and Sam was forced to brace himself against the back of her seat.  He looked out the window into the darkness to realize that the train was making an unscheduled stop.  As the passengers grumbled, Sam leaned over and muttered, half  to himself, “Why are we stopping at the old  Rosby station? There is nothing here anymore....”   Light from torches erupted, glittering into the compartment and Sam could now see  a number of men standing by the rickety platform, hard ridden horses huffing to the side. “What in seven hells?...”</p><p>The woman followed his gaze and her face paled.   She used her hand to clear the condensation off the window and stared out the window for a long moment.  Then suddenly she rose and grabbed his arm.  “Sam, I am willing to accept Lord Snow’s invitation for the sake of the child and his mother.  Will you help Mrs., ...Craster, is it,... with the child?”</p><p>She tossed the blanket aside and moved with amazing speed for a woman in her condition. Grabbing her simple valise, she moved into the aisle, darting elegantly back the way he had come, pausing only at the door to the next section.  “This way?”  </p><p>Sam nodded and urged Gilly and little Sam from their seats, unable to believe that it had been so easy to complete Jon’s instructions.   While delighted to have more time with Gilly and little Sam, he was more than a little bit stunned to find he had succeeded with Jon’s mystery woman.  As he hugged Sam’s sleepy little body to himself and chased after the suddenly determined Mrs. Stone, he wondered, <em>Why did she change her mind so suddenly?</em>  </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, to address some concerns raised in the comments I received on the prologue/chapter 1.  This is not a Sansa Stark/Joffrey Baratheon story.  Her unpleasant encounter with Lord Twit  was necessary, however, to set up the events of the story.  If you can be patient, we might, much later on, have a comeuppance for Joffrey and I will try to give fair warning when that happens.  </p><p>This chapter hints at why Jon is on the Express heading North.  Any guesses as to what he is supposed to do when he gets to Winterfell?  </p><p>The next chapter will address the danger facing Sansa/Alayne.  Jon will get to know his mystery woman better.  And, yes, before you say anything, Jon will know he shouldn't be pining after a married, pregnant woman, but there it is!  There will also be more Sam and Gilly interaction while all their plans are suddenly changed by events out of their control.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Not So Divine Intervention</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sansa faces the prospect of being discovered and arrested for the murder of Petyr Baelish.  Jon makes a decision about Alayne Stone and puts on an award winning  performance.  Sam is along for the ride while Gilly and little Sam provide Alayne (Sansa) comfort. </p><p>I am a bit nervous about this chapter because I don't want anyone to think that I am trying to unfairly stereotype any segment of society. However, this chapter moves the narrative along and gives us another reason to love our two rather socially awkward heroes.  Please remember the time period in  which this is happening and consider the chapter in that light. More at the end.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From the instant Sam left to scout the third class cars, Jon had resumed his pacing, juggling a mental mantra that swerved between exhilarated - <em>I will get to see her again!</em> - to deflated - <em>She’ll never agree to come!</em> - interspersed with the pragmatic - <em>And if she does? What do you expect will happen anyway?</em></p><p>Jon’s motivated pacing was interrupted on what had to be his 50th trip through the length of his private car when he realized that while he was still moving, the train had stopped. He glanced out the window and halted abruptly. <em>What in seven hells?</em></p><p>Evening came early during the winter months and although tea time was barely passed, it was already dark enough that the torches flickering outside his window stood out in sharp relief against the inky sky. He peered outside again and made out a dozen or so men milling around on the dilapidated remains of what appeared to have once been a train depot. Jon briefly considered digging out his pistols but then discarded that notion. Whoever these men were, they weren’t highwaymen. But it was abundantly clear that they had stopped the train for a reason.</p><p>Jon turned from where he had been leaning, a knee on the cushioned seat, his arm propped against the window, when the door slid open. Sam stood there beaming, a toddler under one arm and a rather banged up valise under the other. He was followed by a young, wide eyed woman. <em>Ah</em>, Jon thought, <em>This must be Gilly!</em> Immediately behind Sam’s presumed infatuation came the object of his own interest, her color high and her eyes glazed over as if she had just experienced a tremendous fright. Jon immediately stood and bowed his head.  "Madam."  She nodded back and extended her small hand.  "Mrs. Alayne Stone."  Jon extended his arm and enveloped her soft fingers in his own.   “Mrs. Stone.” He then turned toward the other woman. “Mrs.,uhmm, Craster? I am Jon Snow. Welcome.”</p><p>Alayne cast a not-so-subtle glance out the window. Jon sensed she was spooked, more agitated even than during their rambunctious meeting earlier that day. He cleared his throat and motioned them in, nodding to Sam to close the compartment. “Please, have a seat, both of you.” He smiled at the little boy in Sam’s arms. “And this must be Sam. Hello, Sam.” The little boy grinned back, but then overcome by a sudden burst of shyness, buried his face in the older Sam’s chest.</p><p>Gilly and Alayne had seated themselves on one bench so Jon took a seat on the opposite side as Sam plopped down beside him. Gilly smiled tentatively. “Thank you so much, Lord Snow, for inviting us to your car!” She looked around with obvious amazement. “This is certainly more comfortable than sitting in third class with the old men, snorin’ and fartin’ all around.” Jon coughed to keep from laughing out loud. He realized that Gilly was just being painfully honest. <em>No wonder Sam found her a breath of fresh air!</em> Most of the ladies in the capitol would have been aghast at such candor, no matter how true the statement. He glanced then at Alayne, thinking that perhaps she would have taken offense at Gilly’s blunt speech. But it was obvious that she hadn’t even been listening to the conversation. Alayne reminded Jon of a doe anxiously sensing an unseen threat in the air. Jon desperately wanted to gather her off to himself so that, in his awkward way, he could suss out the secrets he knew intuitively she carried. Yet perhaps now was not the best time. He turned to his friend.</p><p>“Sam, what is going on out there? Do you know why the train stopped?”</p><p>Sam had been distracted by Little Sam digging in his pockets and pulling out what appeared to be a rather crumpled bag of roasted almonds. “What’s that, Jon? Stop? Oh my! Yes, we’ve stopped! The conductor said that the City Watch is searching the train.”</p><p>Jon heard a sharp gasp and cast a sideways look toward Alayne who if possible, was even paler than before. He continued to regard Sam. “Whatever are they looking for way out here, Sam? This is a bit out of their jurisdiction.”</p><p>“Don’t know any details, Jon,” Sam apologized as he dropped some almonds into his little companion’s outstretched hand. “But it must be right serious to bring a dozen or more policemen out from Kings Landing just to stop the Express in the middle of nowhere.”</p><p>Mhmmm. Could this unscheduled stop possibly involve his delightful guest? Jon turned the puzzle piece that was Alayne Stone over in his mind. She was clearly nervous and far more agitated than before. Despite sending Sam to fetch her, Jon hadn’t really expected Alayne to grace his compartment with her presence. No proper lady - and a lady she certainly appeared to be - would dare to enter a man’s private car without an adequate chaperone. Charming as Gilly appeared, she wasn’t really qualified to serve as a lady’s companion. No, something out of the ordinary had compelled this lovely woman to accept his offer. What was Mrs. Stone hiding?</p><p><br/>At that moment, the distinct sound of heavy feet approaching Jon’s private car startled them all. Alayne looked like she might faint dead away. Jon realized with a sudden, heavy certainty that she knew exactly why the train was being searched. <em>The City Watch is looking for her!</em></p><p>Jon caught her eyes and the terror reflected in them confirmed his suspicions. He had only a few minutes to decide: shelter her or reveal her presence? What should he do?</p><p>****************</p><p>After five brisk knocks, a voice called out. “Open in the name of the King! City Watch here on police business!”</p><p>Sam stood in the middle of their spacious sitting area, wiping his hands nervously down the outside of his trousers. He looked askance at Jon who had casually taken a seat on the bench. Jon crossed his legs at the ankle and pulled up today’s <em>Gazette</em> as if his most immediate concern was perusing the news section. Jon nodded at Sam and spoke more calmly than he felt. “Open the door, Sam.”</p><p>Sam swallowed and turned to pull the door open. He had barely removed his hand when a bald man with an arrogant manner stormed in, followed by a train conductor whom Jon had yet to meet. <em>Thank the gods! </em> Jon breathed a sigh of relief. <em> This conductor wasn’t the one who witnessed my morning encounter with Mrs. Stone!</em></p><p>The other man was dressed in plain clothes but Jon could tell by the way he carried himself that he had some authority. “Janos Slynt, Chief of Investigations for the City Watch.” The man flashed a badge drawn from inside his coat pocket, returning it as he glared at Jon. “For someone so young, you seem a bit hard of hearing, Boy. I had just given orders to the conductor here,” Slynt derisively motioned toward the conductor who was sending apologetic glances toward both Jon and Sam, “to fetch an axe to break your door down.”</p><p>“Lord Jon, I am so sorry, so sorry. Please don’t hold this unwarranted intrusion against the exceptional service that the Express strives to provide, Sir!” The conductor whose name tag read “<em>B. Florent</em>” was now openly wringing his hands in distress.</p><p>Jon casually glanced up from his paper. Sighing he took his time folding it and then rising to his feet. While Jon was not a tall man, he still had a few inches on Slynt and he was certainly in much better shape. But he couldn’t let this become a physical confrontation. Not when Slynt had deputies with guns waiting outside. Certainly not when Jon needed to divert Slynt away from his quarters as quickly as possible! Jon had also heard of Slynt by reputation only, and what little he knew wasn’t good. Rumor had it that the detective was on the payroll of someone high up in the King’s ministry and that he was compensated well enough to overlook the particulars of the law when it suited his benefactor. Yes, Jon would have to take a different tack with this man.</p><p>“Please excuse our delay, Detective. My friend and I have eaten so well on this trip that we were both in a bit of a stupor.” Jon chuckled as he tossed the newspaper back on the seat and patted his flat stomach. “I must have just read the same section of the <em>Gazette</em> at least twenty times and I still can’t tell you what it says.”</p><p>Slynt harrumped and cast an eye around the compartment, leering at Sam until the younger man blushed and cast his eyes downward. He looked around the compartment, whistling under his breath. “Very nice digs you have here, Boy. Your Papa must be quite the toff to send you and your friend here off in such style.” He resumed his scrutiny of Jon who stood quite still under his glare, hands nonchalantly stuffed in his trousers. “Quite romantic, I must say.”</p><p>Sam grimaced. While he was used to being the brunt of crude jokes and had long ago learned to just grin and bear it, Jon was another story entirely. Jon’s temper had a rather long fuse but once it reached the point of no return, woe be to anyone or anything that happened to be in the way. He glanced at Jon and winced. His friend looked calm enough, but Sam knew him well and he was worried that Jon could blow at any moment. Sam was also always prepared to expect the unexpected from Jon but what happened next left him flabbergasted.</p><p>Jon sighed and flopped rather lazily back on the cushioned bench. He ran a hand through his tousled locks and looked up at the Detective from under his long sooty eyelashes as he extended his arms across the length of the seat.</p><p>“Detective,” Jon’s voice had adopted a feminine lilting quality that Sam wouldn’t have believed could have come from his normally deep voiced friend if he hadn’t heard it himself. “I daresay that an important man like you has better things to do than to insult myself and my <em>dear</em> companion.” Jon brushed away all anticipated insults Slynt might direct toward him with an airy sweep of one hand. “But no matter. We will cooperate fully. What exactly can I do for you?”</p><p>Slynt drew himself up and glared at Jon. He glanced around the compartment again. “Is anyone else in this car? The sleeping quarters? The water closet?”</p><p>Jon batted his lashes again. “No, Sir. We are quite alone. Isn’t that right, Sam?” Thunderstruck, Sam could only nod. Slynt looked with suspicion toward the interior hallway that bisected the car. He took a step forward only to be brought up short by Jon. “I wouldn’t go back there if I were you!” Jon looked down at the floor, then smiled disarmingly. “To be honest, Detective, I wasn’t <em>actually</em> reading the paper when you knocked. The reason for the delay in answering your summons was because,....well, my friend, Sam and I were....” Sam noted with abstraction that Jon’s cheeks were now roughly the same shade as a summer rose. “You see, Sam and I were..., well, I know it’s still a bit early in the day for this kind of thing, but we were back in the sleeping quarters. <em>Together</em>.” Jon looked up then, his brown eyes blown wide, almost as if he were appealing to Slynt for help. “I just can’t control him, Detective. Really, I know he doesn’t look like it, but Sam is a beast!”</p><p>Sam had to bite his lip hard to keep from laughing out loud! <em>Jon, you scamp! You should have majored in theater while at the Academy. This is quite the performance!</em></p><p>Slynt looked outraged. “Enough of this!” He turned on little Florent who had gone quite pale. “Is any one else registered as a passenger in this car?”</p><p>Florent shook his head wildly, even as his eyes darted between Sam and Jon as if he were seeing a rare species of animal for the first time. “No, just Lord Snow and, uhhh, uhhh, his companion, Lord Tarly.”</p><p>Slynt looked back at Jon and growled. “If I wasn’t here on serious business that cannot be ignored, I would run you back to the capitol and throw both of your asses in the dungeons on charges of sodomy and buggery! As it is, I will thank you to keep out of my sight if you ever step foot back in the capitol!” Slynt strode indignantly out of the compartment door, closely followed by the pitiful Florent. Sam and Jon looked solemnly at each other for a long moment until they heard a shouted <em>“Disgusting!”</em> floating back down the length of the car. A second glance and then they both burst out into uncontrollable laughter.</p><p>****************************************</p><p>Sansa kept her eyes fixed on the closed door, silently willing it to stay shut. She perched at the edge of the bed in Lord Snow’s luxurious sleeping quarters. Gilly sat on the end nearest the window, her hand held lightly over little Sam’s mouth as she whispered nonsensical things to entertain the boy. Sansa needed to breathe. If she couldn’t breathe, she was going to faint, but she couldn’t seem to actually make her lungs work to take in air. To make matters worse, her babe had picked the absolute worst time to start kicking her in the ribs as if frantically trying to escape from the prison that was her womb. Long moments passed as she kept her gaze on the opening. “<em>Please</em>,” she beseeched all the gods she knew and a few she didn’t. “<em>Please protect my babe. I can’t deliver my baby in the dungeons. Please</em>!”</p><p>She started when she heard the shouting, then jumped again as the conversation ebbed and flowed. That angry male voice. It had to be one of them, one of the City Watch! She was sweating now, still enveloped in the heavy cloak that she had yet to remove. The tension was unbearable. Just as she thought she might scream out loud, she felt her hand gripped in another. Gilly was holding her fingers, stroking them just as her Lady Mother used to do in order to calm her when she was upset. Tears sprang up in Sansa’s eyes as she looked at Gilly. “Everything will be all right,” Gilly mouthed at her. Sansa nodded through her tears and gripped Gilly’s hand tightly in hers.</p><p>A sudden slam of the outer compartment door, then, an indistinguishable shout, followed by a brief silence. From the outer room a strange noise erupted. Sansa listened, every nerve on high alert. It sounded like nothing so much as two donkeys braying! She felt her hand squeezed once more and when she looked over at her companion, Sansa realized that Gilly was smiling even as she rocked a sleepy Sam who had solved the problem of maintaining  his silence by sticking his thumb in his mouth. “Everything <em>is</em> all right, Mrs. Stone,” Gilly whispered, a bit louder this time.</p><p>Gilly’s assurances were confirmed moments later when Jon Snow opened the door. His lovely face beamed as he immediately sought her out even as Sam peered over his shoulder and waved cheerily at a sleepy little boy and his mother. Sansa took a deep cleansing breath and promptly passed out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, Jon playing a gay man to throw Slynt off was the best way to get the Detective out of the compartment. In my mind, Slynt is a coward and a bully but also, deep down, not all that smart!  Jon senses all this about Slynt and uses that to manipulate him. Making Slynt believe that he and Sam are a couple is the only way Jon can think of to steer him away from searching the entire compartment and of course, it works.  Jon does put both himself and Sam at risk  because in the 1800s in England (which is generally the time period in which our story is set in an alternate Westeros) ,  buggery was a crime that was punishable by long terms of imprisonment.  But he does it to protect Alayne and since Slynt has bigger fish to fry at the moment, it actually works!  Next up:  Jon and Alayne talk, Sam and Gilly get closer,  and the train makes another unscheduled stop.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this was just a prologue to set up the story told (obviously) from Sansa's point of view.  Jon  and Sam will make an appearance  in Chapter One.  As you might have guessed this story has a Regency (England) time period feel, but I am not above mixing it all up so don't hold me to any real time period.  For example, I am shamelessly mixing Christmas traditions in with the old gods and the new.  Jon is finishing up his Grand Tour of Westeros which is something that young English gentlemen often did in the regency period except it was usually a grand tour of Europe. Jon has a specific reason that he is touring Westeros, however, and it has something to do with his future occupation, if you want to mull that over. Anyway, hope I can keep this up and that you will enjoy!<br/>Oh, and by the way, the route of the Westerosi Express will roughly follow the Kings Road.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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